


Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater

by odetteandodile



Series: Sweater Weather [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 80's movie references, Bucky doesn't know who Steve Is and Steve likes that, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, First Kiss, Fluff, Halloween, Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mistaken Identity, Shrunkyclunks, So Is Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers is an awkward dork, also feat Lucky the Pizza Dog, it's a perfect match, thanks Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 13:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16220027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odetteandodile/pseuds/odetteandodile
Summary: Bucky's first impression of the tall, hot blonde guy is that he's the only other person at Clint's Halloween party who looks as awkward as Bucky feels.His second impression is that the guy is about to cheat at a dumb game to avoid watching a scary movie.As for third impressions and beyond? Well, things start looking up from there...





	Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater

**Author's Note:**

> hi all, i was in the mood for some lighthearted fall-themed shrunkyclunks and here's where we ended up! 
> 
> enjoy some awkward flirting, banter, puppy-eyes, and fluffs. 
> 
> beta thanks as ever to [calendulae](https://calendulae.tumblr.com), as well as to mack for pinch hitting (very) late on a saturday night!

Bucky Barnes hasn’t been at a house party in approximately seven years. 

That is unless you count the handful of times one of his team members got somebody stateside to ship them decent booze and they’d all gathered up to enjoy the rare treat of it together. Which he doesn’t. Those hadn’t really been _parties_. Hadn’t really been in a house for that matter. 

Right at this moment, he kind of forgets exactly how he got himself talked into this one. But of course the answer is pretty simple: Clint Barton. Clint Barton could sell a blind man a telescope. 

Not that Bucky had been that hard a sell—he’s been back in-country for two weeks and he knew it was probably time to make an effort and do some socializing. Try to do some socializing. Be in a room where he _could_ do some socializing if he could work up the energy for small talk. 

He feels like the spooky skeletons and jack-o-lanterns staring down at him from every side is sapping his life force though—so _festive_. He’s pretty positive Monster Mash has already played four times. 

Bucky sighs at himself— _what a pill_. It’s not that Clint’s other friends don’t seem fun and interesting, it’s just that Bucky doesn’t feel particularly like he’s either and also he’s forgotten how to interact in large groups and also he might still be jetlagged. A severed head on a plate sitting on the table beside him glares up at him judgmentally. 

He used to love Halloween, Bucky reminds himself forcefully. As a kid trick-or-treating and even in college. It’s just that he’s been living out of a suitcase for so long and in a series of remote places he’s become _that_ guy without intending to. The one who’s worked long enough in developing countries that he can’t enjoy _frivolous_ things like this anymore. Bucky met a _lot_ of those people in the NGO world and he always found them annoying, so he’s consequently annoyed at himself for being a downer. Just because there are always important things happening everywhere doesn’t mean everybody shouldn’t enjoy the unimportant stuff too. Being silly is a basic human need.

But also every conversation he’s had tonight has at some point turned toward “so what do you do?” as is wont to happen with people you’ve never met. Generally the response to “I’ve been building clean water infrastructure in developing countries but now I’m back in New York because my dad had a heart attack” has been for the other person to say how that’s really cool of him and then leave the conversation as soon as possible. 

Bucky looks pretty good on paper, he thinks, but not so good to people just trying to have a chill evening. He doesn’t want to bum anyone out—he’s just also missed out on the last seven years of TV and stuff so he can’t really think of anything easier to talk about. 

But he _is_ back, and for the foreseeable future. He’s starting a job with Stark Industries the week after next and he moved his stuff out of his suitcase and into the closet of his old bedroom at his parents’. So Bucky figures he’s gotta start somewhere on the making friends and being normal front too. 

Clint stands on a stool in the kitchen, shouting over everybody’s talking and the music to announce that they’re going to put on a Halloween movie soon and tells everyone to start brainstorming ideas so they can pull one out of a hat. 

Bucky groans inwardly—but then brightens. If Clint gets himself and everyone else distracted by a movie he can sneak out and be in bed by ten without feeling too bad about it. 

Maybe he should try to have _one_ more successful interaction with a human being tonight before he lets himself flee, he thinks. Then he’ll feel like the forced socialization was a success and go to bed with a clear conscience that he wasn’t a total jerk/failure of a party guest. 

His eyes rove over the room trying to decide who he thinks he could chat up without too much mental effort that he hasn’t already talked to in the hour and change that he’s been here. 

Bucky’s gaze lands on a tall blonde guy in a fairly cheesy Thor costume (red cape and a big plastic mjolnir hanging from his belt) hovering awkwardly near the kitchen. 

The guy is handsome, although that’s not what catches Bucky’s attention. Fine, it’s not the _first_ thing that catches his attention. The first thing is that he’s really the only other person in the room who looks as uncomfortable and alone as Bucky feels. And okay the second thing he notices is the build—he’s cut and Bucky’s only human. 

Corner Guy’s costume doesn’t help make him less conspicuous as he hunches his impressive shoulders, trying to shrink unnoticed against the wall he’s standing beside, clutching his beer with both hands. But between the cheap, shiny material of his cape which looks like it might be a child’s size since it only falls mid-thigh and the fact that the black t-shirt he’s wearing under it stretches suggestively over a very nice torso, Bucky is surprised that he’s only just noticed him. 

Bucky used to have a much better handsome-guy-radar than that—he’s gotten rusty. Or maybe the guy just got here. 

Clint is winding his way through the room, handing out post-it notes and pens for people to write their movie choices on, and he pauses to say to Corner Guy, “You have to pick something too, I wanna see what weird shit you put in!” 

Clint grins, clapping him on the shoulder and shoving a slip of paper into his massive hand. Corner Guy nods half-heartedly, giving Clint a tight smile until he’s sauntered away through the living room again. 

Bucky looks away then, because he feels his observing might be bordering now on creepy. He wends his way over instead to the food table to load up his empty plate. 

Clint starts collecting people’s movie suggestions, and somebody asks him “So who’s doing the picking, you?” 

“Nah,” Clint says with a huge, lopsided grin. “Gotta have someone impartial—” he looks around, stroking his chin theatrically in thought as he weighs the party guests for objectivity. Then he beams and snaps his fingers, “You know what, human objectivity is a myth—let’s make Lucky do it!” 

Lucky, Clint’s massive, shaggy dog’s ears perk up at his name, although he doesn’t leave the side of a brunette woman who’s been stroking his neck for a good half hour. Dog knows a good thing when he finds it. It looks like he’s even sitting on her feet so she can’t escape. 

There are some questioning noises but Clint flaps his hands, gaining enthusiasm, “Yeah—look we’ll ball all of them up and then toss ’em down the hall and whichever one he goes to first that’s what we’ll watch okay? It’s perfect.”

Bucky snorts affectionately. Never a dull moment with Clint and his bright ideas. 

He sneaks a furtive glance over at hot Corner Guy to see what his reaction is. 

And he finds Corner Guy looking extremely shifty. He darts a glance around, but there’s nobody in his immediate vicinity…he bites his lip for a moment, hesitating. 

Then he leans over quickly, swiping the post-it with his movie selection straight across the top of an abandoned piece of pizza sitting on a plate next to him on the counter. 

Bucky just manages to suppress a bark of laughter that wants to jump from his throat, turning it into a cough and ducking his head away. 

Clint finishes collecting the suggestions including Corner Guy’s pepperoni-laced one, calling a reluctant Lucky over and tossing all of them down the hallway with a cheerful “fetch!” 

Bucky isn’t at all surprised when Lucky passes over the ones that fell closer to the front, heading nose down straight for one particular crumpled scrap. Clint has to tug it out of his mouth by force. 

“Arsenic and Old Lace! Ah jeez, no need to ask whose that was since he _helpfully_ even provided the year,” Clint says, cutting his eyes teasingly at Corner Guy, who shrugs—he literally could not look more guilty if he tried in Bucky’s opinion, but Clint doesn’t seem to suspect anything. 

Clint moves off toward the big flat screen to set up the movie, telling a couple of whiny horror fans to cool it and prepare for a classical education in a good-natured tone. 

Finally, Bucky can’t help himself. He crosses the space to the kitchen, leaning up next to Corner Guy over the counter like he’s going to grab a slice of pizza, putting his back to the rest of the room. 

“So, you’re a big fat cheater, huh?” he says with a smirk, in a low enough voice that only CG will hear. 

The other man immediately flames a brilliant shade of crimson, opening and shutting his mouth a few times.

“Shit,” he says at last, ducking his head in a way that shouldn’t really be cute on someone so tall but definitely is. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“So you’re a scaredy cat or what?” Bucky asks, grin spreading. 

“Oh I mean, I’m not—not exactly—it’s just—”

The guy stammers helplessly until Bucky takes pity on him, knocking shoulders with him. 

“Relax man, I’m not going to rat you out. I’m not really a big horror fan either—I was planning to duck out when they got started actually.” 

“Oh…yeah?” he asks, tone hopeful as he looks up to make eye contact for the first time since Bucky walked up. “It’s not that I can’t handle blood or I’m that easy to scare or whatever,” he says in a rush, like he doesn’t want Bucky to have the wrong impression, “it’s just not really how I want to spend my free time, thinking about it you know? The world is already so—” he cuts himself off. Then he adds, bashful, “Also…I’m kind of easy to scare. Just with movies. For some reason. And I really don’t want to lose my shit in front of a bunch of people I don’t know. God—that’s embarrassing. This is probably even more embarrassing than just letting it happen, huh?” 

He gives Bucky a wry, sideways smile and Bucky grins back. 

“I’m Bucky,” Bucky says, offering his hand to shake, “Barnes.” 

The guy’s smile turns into a full one as he shakes Bucky’s hand with a firm, solid grip. “Nice to meet you Bucky.” 

Bucky waits for a moment, then says teasingly, “Uh, this is where you’d normally tell me your name too?”

“Oh!” he says, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, like that part of the social ritual comes as a surprise to him. Or that something about it is surprising, anyway. But he’s beaming when he says (a little oddly), “Right, because we haven’t met and you don’t know me—I’m Steve.” 

Bucky chuckles. “Steve. Cool—I can stop calling you Corner Guy in my head.” 

Steve groans, tips of his ears turning pink. “I swear I’m not trying to be awkward it’s just—I only really know Clint and I’m not that good at—I was _going_ to talk to someone eventually—”

“Hey man,” Bucky says, “I only noticed because I was also being awkward Corner Guy over by the food table with no one to talk to. Which is also how I happened to witness you being willing to take advantage of a poor defenseless dog to get your movie choice…” 

Steve blushes again, but seems to get that Bucky’s ribbing him, giving a weak chuckle too. 

“Great first impression right? I don’t usually get to mess them up that bad these days.” Bucky raises an eyebrow at that, and Steve rushes to add, “I mean I don’t—I haven’t been around a bunch of people I don’t know in a while. Mostly a—a homebody I guess.” 

Bucky nods, smiling. That makes sense. “Same—but hey, we’re both talking to each other so neither one of us has been a total failure tonight I guess, right?” 

He reaches out and grips Steve’s shoulder in a casual, easy way that is open to being interpreted as strictly friendly or not—testing the waters _just_ a little to see how Steve reacts. Bucky hasn’t flirted in a while, but he sort of remembers how to do it. Steve’s eyes widen a bit at the contact, but then he breaks into a sunny grin. Bucky squeezes and lets go with his own answering smile. 

“So you uh—you pretty into the Avengers then?” 

Steve splutters into a sip of his drink, “I—what?” 

Bucky gives him a funny look, then gestures at Steve’s Thor costume. “Your costume—Thor? I was just guessing you must be into that whole super-hero thing.” 

Steve laughs nervously, tugging on the edge of the cape. “Right, this. Um, I wouldn’t say I’m a _huge_ fan of it.” He pauses, looking chagrined. “Honestly I didn’t really pick this out. Clint kind of cornered me after work today last minute and made me swear I’d come. My friend Sam picked this up for me—thought it was funny I guess.” 

Bucky smiles, “Yeah I pretty much got the same treatment—the old Barton charm. I’m uh—I haven’t been back in town that long, I think he’s starting to think I’ve developed some kind of agoraphobia. So I let him talk me into it. Luckily I’m living with my parents at the moment so I dug this out of my closet,” he waves an arm across his outfit. 

“So…what are you?” Steve asks. 

Bucky gives a massive groan, “Come on not you too! I swear to god like one person has actually gotten the reference all night—this movie is a _classic people_!”

Bucky says the last with a dramatic wave of his arm around the room as if anyone else is listening to the admonishment. 

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry—it’s not you! It’s—I’m not very good with movies,” Steve says, the miserable crease returning to between his eyebrows and making him look very sorry indeed. 

Bucky relents with a huff. “I’m Marty McFly! Get it? The vest, the jean on jean, the nikes?”

Steve shakes his head regretfully. 

“Back to the Future!” Bucky exclaims. Steve’s face still shows no recognition, and Bucky’s irritation fades immediately into disbelief. “Wait you’ve like—never seen it at _all_? Damn Steve. Okay, I’m letting you off the hook for not recognizing me on the defense that you had a seriously sad and deprived childhood.”

“You got no idea.” Steve’s mouth twists in a dry smile. “So it’s good then?”

“It’s the best! I think I watched it every single Saturday from the ages of like seven to thirteen. Man! I can’t believe you’ve never seen it.” 

“Back to the Future,” Steve says, like he’s turning the title over in his mouth, and smiling a secret kind of smile to himself over whatever he’s thinking. “Definitely sounds like something I should watch.” 

“Yes, definitely,” Bucky agrees, fervently, “If I can be the person who brought you this joy my night will not have been wasted.” 

Steve laughs, “Guess I’ll have to wait and see what I think after I watch it before I can say if mine was or not. You could be full of it, or deluded—”

“Hey now,” Bucky breaks in grinning, “this is coming from the man who if you’ll recall is a confirmed cheater-cheater-pumpkin-eater and also picked a movie that is only _very_ tenuously related to Halloween for this Halloween party viewing so between the two of us—”

“Ex _cuse_ me,” Steve says, bringing his hand to his chest in mock-offense, “Arsenic and Old Lace is a classic and there’s at least some murder and stuff in it so it _definitely_ counts—”

“I’m just saying,” Bucky jokes, holding up a hand to stop Steve, “I haven’t done anything even sort of ethically grey tonight—that you know of—so I think I deserve a little benefit of the doubt from you of _all_ people.” 

He ends the statement with a cheeky wink, and he’s delighted to find that it brings the pink tint back to Steve’s cheeks. 

“Mr. Righteous over here,” Steve grumbles good-naturedly. 

“Hey I looked the other way didn’t I? I’m basically your accomplice after the fact now. We’re in this together, pal.” 

Steve ducks his head and smiles, and Bucky’s stomach warms a little bit. Okay, Steve is really, _really_ cute. Damn, Bucky hasn’t even _considered_ getting back to any kind of dating life—he’s only just trying to make himself make friends—but the very force of Steve’s handsomeness makes him consider it now. 

“Um so listen,” Bucky starts, plunging ahead before he can over-think it. “I was going to get out of here—”

“Oh!” Steve says before he can finish, looking crestfallen, “right yeah of course, you said—sorry I didn’t mean to keep you—”

“Do you wanna ditch this thing with me?” Bucky interrupts before Steve can work himself into too much worry. “We could get some coffee or dessert or something…”

Steve’s face immediately melts in relief, “Yeah? You mean—just you and me?”

“I mean—yeah? If you want?” Bucky says, hopefully. 

Steve is beaming, but then he bites his lip and Bucky can see him hesitate. 

“It’s not a big deal, if you don’t—” Bucky hurries to say before Steve can try to let him down gently or whatever it looks like he’s about to do. Bummer, Bucky thinks. He’s surprised at how disappointed he feels. 

“No! I do!” Steve says at once, and he reaches out a hand—a very large, very warm hand Bucky’s brain notes—to wrap around Bucky’s upper arm reassuringly. His eyes dart over the rest of the room briefly. “I really do. It’s just I—I promised Clint but—” he drops his eyes momentarily, then takes a deep breath and meets Bucky’s eyes again, “maybe you could give me your phone number, and we could try another time?”

Steve says it with such earnest resolve that Bucky can’t help but believe that he really isn’t trying to blow him off, and nods as he tugs his phone out of the pocket of his puffy vest. 

“I’d really like that.”

*

By the time he gets home and crawls into bed, Bucky already has a text from Steve (who’d entered himself into Bucky’s phone as “Steve—Clint Barton party” which he finds unaccountably funny and precise) saying he hopes Bucky got home safe. 

Bucky shoots back a few thumbs ups, and says again how he really enjoyed meeting him. He figures if Steve can be unapologetically interested enough to text him within the hour, he can return in kind. It’s nice. Bucky’s been out of the scene long enough that he doesn’t really feel like playing any kind of games anyway. And Steve seems just awkward enough not to either. 

They make plans for the next weekend, and all in all Bucky would be feeling pretty perfectly pleased with how the evening has gone—until he asks Steve where he wants to meet him. Bucky recommends an Italian place in Brooklyn that he remembers having good date ambiance, after checking on yelp to make sure the place even still exists. 

Steve’s typing bubbles appear and disappear several times, and Bucky frowns down at them wondering what the problem is. 

Finally, Steve texts back asking if Bucky would want to have dinner at his place instead. 

Bucky huffs. He hadn’t really gotten the hook-up vibe from Steve at the party, but apparently that’s where his head is at. 

He rolls over in his narrow twin bed with an annoyed sound, considering. 

He honestly liked Steve a lot—he’d been pretty into the idea of going out with him after he’d thought about it on his subway ride home. But maybe Steve just wants something quick and casual, which is totally his prerogative. It’s not like Bucky had been desperate to date anyone really before tonight. 

Ultimately, he says that dinner at Steve’s works fine with him. Maybe it’s not just a come on—maybe Steve’s just really as shy around people as he’d seemed tonight. Or maybe it is, in which case Bucky figures there are worse consolation prizes than a one-night stand with a guy that looks like Steve does. 

But then Steve texts him Monday morning to tell him that he hopes he has a good day which is extremely sweet and not particularly chill, so Bucky really has no idea again. 

On Tuesday, Bucky meets up for lunch with Clint. After half an hour of conversation Bucky doesn’t even really remember participating in, he finally brings it up. 

“So I uh…kind of met someone. At your party.” Bucky says in a complete non-sequitur to whatever they’d been talking about before. 

Clint rolls with it, grinning. “Yeah? That’s great man! Who was it? Was it Dave? I had a feeling you’d—”

“No, not Dave,” Bucky interrupts easily, used to the way conversation has to flow with Clint if you ever want a word in edgewise. “Um, Steve?” 

Clint splutters and makes a jerky movement with his hand that knocks the rest of his half-empty bowl of tomato soup into his lap. 

“Aw, no,” he says, sopping it up ineffectively with his napkin. Bucky offers his but Clint waves it away. “Steve like—Steve, Steve? Tall, blonde guy with the crazy pecs?”

“Hah—yeah that’s the one.” 

“Oh my god,” Clint says, a crazy smile taking over his face. “When you say you ‘met someone’ you meant not just that you amazingly actually talked to a new human but like—”

“Like, we got each other’s numbers ‘met someone’ yeah,” Bucky confirms. 

Clint lets out something like a strangled squeak, clamping his lips together tight while his eyes are still wide enough that Bucky can see the whites. He looks absolutely insane. 

“What the hell man, should I be worried about this like—allergic reaction you’re having to this news?”

Clint shakes his head, taking a deep breath and calming his expressions. 

“Is Steve like, a low-key weirdo? Closeted? Secretly married? What is happening right now?”

“Yes, not exactly, and no,” Clint ticks off on his fingers. “Sorry I’m just…just excited. When I basically arm-wrestled you guys into coming I did _not_ think it would pay off so well for both of you. I just wanted both of you to talk to someone you don't work with for once. Actually would’ve laid even odds on you being the two people in my life who called me to let me know you were ‘sick’ the night of.” Clint honest-to-god giggles. “Steve! Didn’t know he had it in him. Nice work Barnes.” 

“What does not exactly closeted mean?” Bucky asks, sifting through Clint’s rambling. 

Clint gives a lopsided shrug. “He’s out to his friends and people he works with and stuff just not exactly like…public. It’s complicated.” 

Bucky frowns. “So like—not facebook official or whatever? He from a religious family or something?” 

“Something like that,” Clint chuckles. “Honestly though, don’t worry about that. He fully bats for your team.” 

“Huh,” Bucky says, thinking that over. “So do you think he’s looking for something…serious?” 

Bucky can feel himself blush. He’d thought as an adult man he’d eventually get past the “asking his crush’s friend for info about him” stage of things, but maybe nobody ever really gets beyond that. 

“Steve’s a…pretty serious guy,” Clint responds. It isn’t entirely helpful. 

“It’s just—” Bucky pauses, not sure he wants to get into the whole thing and his insecurities with Clint right now. But then he plunges forward because he really does want to know what Clint thinks. “I asked him if he wanted to go out to dinner at this place I know, and he was kind of weird about it and asked me to come over to his place instead. So usually I’d expect the ‘let me cook for you’ invite on date three if somebody’s interested in more than—more than sex, you know?” 

Clint snorts. “Yeah I know what you mean. Look…” he pauses, “I don’t want to betray any confidences here. But let me put you at ease and say you _should_ be very worried about the fact that Steve might try to cook for you, but you should _not_ be worried that he’s looking to one-and-done you. That help?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, “I guess it does.”

He worries about it ’til Friday anyway. 

*

Steve’s apartment is in a low-key neighborhood in Brooklyn not too far from Bucky’s parents, but a surprisingly nice building—he makes a mental note to ask Steve what he does for a living realizing he hasn’t yet. It makes him realize they kind of managed to skip over the most boring aspects of small talk in the week since the party, texting instead about lighthearted things. 

Steve opens the door with a smile already on his face. 

“Hi!” he exclaims, “you made it!” 

He says it excitedly, like he was worried Bucky wouldn’t find the place, or that he wouldn’t show up. Bucky’s not really sure what that means. 

“Don’t worry, I’d have been more than willing to ask for directions if I had trouble—wouldn’t give up that easily,” he says with an encouraging smile. 

“Good,” Steve says, looking at him fondly. Bucky only has a moment to enjoy the expression though before it turns into a frown as Steve looks over Bucky’s shoulder into the hallway behind him. 

Bucky turns around and finds a willowy, pretty blonde woman in scrubs with a handful of mail looking interestedly at him—though she looks away as soon as he catches her. 

“ _Kate_ ,” Steve says in an oddly edgy tone, and Bucky glances between the two of them. Steve looks exasperated, maybe even annoyed—and the blonde woman smiles blandly at him. 

“Hey Steve, in for the evening?” 

“Yep,” Steve says shortly, stepping aside to sweep an arm for Bucky to come in. “Good _night_ Kate.” 

Bucky shoots a last bemused glance at neighbor-Kate, who doesn’t look too fazed by Steve’s brusqueness. _Maybe they dated_ , Bucky thinks. 

Once the door is shut Steve’s all smiles again though, asking if he can take Bucky’s coat. 

“Very gallant,” Bucky remarks, handing it to him. Steve just blushes. 

Bucky’s heart trips up a little bit when Steve has him sit at his dinner table, and he sees that Steve hasn’t in fact cooked but ordered in food. _Okay, definitely hook-up then?_

But then Steve gives him that utterly disarming sideways smile and says, “My friend Sam told me I probably shouldn’t cook for you because I’m awful and you’d definitely never call me again, I hope that’s okay,” and it’s so earnest that Bucky can’t help but believe him. 

“Sounds like I owe Sam a favor, though I feel like I should judge your cooking skills for myself sometime,” Bucky says, emboldened that maybe Steve _does_ mean for this to be more than a one-time deal. He finds himself hoping more than ever that that’s the case. 

They talk about lots of things over dinner, though every time Bucky remembers he wants to ask Steve about his job Steve seems to direct their attention to something else before he can do it. It’s mostly alright by him, he’s not that keen to talk about his either. Stark Industries is fine, and Bucky’s going to be starting on next week with their philanthropic clean energy initiative which is nice but…he’s kind of stressed about it and not thinking about it is nice. 

Instead, they mostly joke and talk about recent events and share some stories about Clint and banter back and forth. It’s easy—Bucky barely even feels the time passing. 

The first and only down note to the meal happens when Steve asks, innocently, “You said you’re only just back in town right? What brought you back?” 

“Oh, uh—” Bucky says, awkwardly, taking a sip of his beer to buy a minute. Then he shrugs. “Yeah I’ve been working overseas the past few years, but my dad had a pretty big heart attack six weeks ago. Open heart surgery—the full deal. And my mom was pretty overwhelmed trying to keep an eye on him alone because she already watches my sister’s kid three nights a week when she’s on her hospital shift so…I figured it was time to come on back and give her a hand.” 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, softly, reaching across to cover Bucky’s hand with his own. 

“It’s fine, really. I’m super glad he’s okay, he’s so young still, really, so it was a big shock—and I don’t mind camping out in my old room for a little while anyway. It was just time for the next life-phase I guess.” 

“So you think you’ll stay for a while?” 

Bucky shrugs. “I think so. It’s like…even once he’s back on his feet and my mom doesn’t need the help, this whole thing kinda reminded me that you don’t have people forever, you know? So I’d rather stick around and make the most of whatever we have.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, looking down at the table. 

“How about you? Did you—is your family in the city?”

“Ah—no.” Steve says, shaking his head. He clears his throat, “My dad died when I was just a baby and my mom passed when I was a teenager so I’ve been on my own for a while now.” 

“Oh—fuck Steve, I’m sorry—that was a really asshole thing to say then, I didn’t—”

“No, you’re right!” Steve cuts in, vehement. “You really do have to make the most of time with people while you have it. I think that’s really…wise of you.” 

Bucky gives a pained groan. Steve smiles and squeezes his hand. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’m good.” 

They move on to safer topics, Steve asking Bucky about Becca and his niece and how he liked growing up in Brooklyn. Eventually Bucky tells him a little bit about his work over the past few years, and where he’s traveled. He finds Steve to be surprisingly well-traveled himself, delighted that they can compare notes on the ups and downs and foods and flavors of some of Bucky’s favorite places. When Bucky finally presses, Steve says he works with Shield and it’s almost all classified, with a look so discomfited that Bucky lets it drop. 

After dinner Steve clears their plates, refusing any help from Bucky. Then he asks, a little shyly, if Bucky has time and might want to watch a movie. 

“I was thinking maybe we could watch the one from your costume—the future one?” he says hopefully. 

_Okay, here we go_ , Bucky thinks. Watching a movie is definitely code for putting on the moves. He’s tempted to suggest a different one at the very least, thinking that when Steve does watch Back to the Future he really should _actually_ watch it. Then he looks Steve up and down in his tight, white t-shirt and the jeans that cling to his gorgeous thighs and thinks better of it. Bucky’s okay with whatever Steve wants—Steve can rewatch Back to the Future again sometime anyway.

Steve again shows his good manners, showing Bucky to the couch with an expansive arm gesture and a light hand at the small of his back. 

Then, to Bucky’s utter surprise, Steve takes his own seat at the complete other end of the couch. There’s a whole empty cushion between them. 

“I’m really excited to watch this with you—is it your very favorite?” Steve smiles over at him, clicking the TV on with the remote. 

“Oh definitely top five…I’m excited too, you’re gonna love it.” Bucky says, keeping most of his bemusement out of his tone. 

Steve proceeds to watch the movie— _really_ watch it—keeping entirely to his end of the couch. Bucky sinks into appreciating Steve’s genuine enjoyment, as Steve laughs and groans at all the right places, an avid expression of interest on his face. 

This is not how Bucky thought this was going to go. 

To his shock (and with part of his mind chastising him for being distracting), Bucky finds that he’s the one who disrupts the space, a little at a time. First a leg crooked up, and then turning so both of his socked feet are on the couch between them. 

He hasn’t felt so bold doing something as small as nudging another person with his toes since high school, but somehow with Steve’s utterly polite respect of his personal space that small contact feels electric. 

“Whoops, sorry,” Bucky says, not at all sorry when Steve looks over with eyebrows slightly raised in surprise. 

“Don’t be,” Steve says, and his voice is lower than strictly necessary. He scoots a few inches closer and tugs Bucky’s feet into his lap before returning his eyes to the screen, though his lips are slightly parted. Bucky’s content to leave it at that for the moment—they’re about to head to the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance after all, it’s important. 

The movie ends with Bucky watching Steve watch the final sequences more than the screen. When it’s done Steve clicks the TV off and looks over at Bucky for a long moment, a soft smile on his face. His body tilts toward Bucky, and Bucky’s sure he’s going to kiss him—but then he leans back again, looking away shyly and giving Bucky’s ankle a quick squeeze. 

“That was really fun. Maybe…maybe we could do this again sometime?” He says, not meeting Bucky’s eye. 

“Absolutely,” Bucky agrees, only a bit disappointed. Overall it’s been a really great date considering he kind of thought Steve was looking for something else entirely. He’s pretty positive he prefers being surprised like this. 

Steve holds Bucky’s coat for him at the door, helping him into it, but doesn’t move in for anything more. 

Bucky reaches for the door handle, thinking he shouldn’t push it, if Steve doesn’t—but then he sees Steve’s eyes drop to his lips, and he thinks there’s something almost desperate in his expression before he looks away. 

Bucky bites his lip, and Steve’s eyes dart again to the movement, rocking forward on his feet before he stops himself. 

So Bucky takes his hand off the handle of the door, and steps very deliberately into Steve’s space, tipping his face up as Steve’s eyes widen with a sharp little intake of breath. 

He lifts his hands to cup Steve’s face, and Steve closes his eyes. 

“Is this—can I kiss you goodnight?” Bucky asks. He feels like everything about Steve’s body language has indicated that he wants him to, but Steve’s signals have been a little all over the place. Better to be sure. 

But Steve says “Yes— _please_ do,” in a tone that doesn’t leave any room for confusion. 

So Bucky closes the space, brushing his lips against Steve’s softly, just a whispering motion that matches the sigh that comes from Steve’s chest. 

Bucky pulls back, meeting Steve’s gaze for a moment, looking for confirmation that he’s okay with the turn of events. Steve swallows, looking back at him for a moment with half-lidded eyes. 

Then Steve swoops forward, crushing his mouth against Bucky’s small noise of surprise, sealing their lips together fully and wrapping his big arms firmly around Bucky’s back. 

Bucky kisses back as good as he gets, finding his arms twining around Steve’s neck, and his fingers sliding through Steve’s gold hair. He’s not sure who opens the kiss first, but suddenly Steve’s tongue is in his mouth and his back is against the door of Steve’s apartment. He moans as Steve’s long body presses flush against his and he tugs at Steve’s hair drawing an answering sound. 

They kiss feverishly for a few more minutes and Bucky’s head feels fuzzy as his hands start to roam, running over Steve’s gorgeous shoulders and arms that are still wrapped tight around him. He’s not sure he would ever stop, just kissing Steve is so much more intoxicating than he’d imagined—but finally Steve pulls back, panting a little and shaking his head. 

“I—sorry—got a little carried away—” he loosens his grip slightly so that Bucky isn’t crushed back against the door, but doesn’t step all the way back yet. He looks dazed, which is good because Bucky definitely feels goofy. 

“It’s okay I—I wasn’t sure when you asked me to come here instead of—if maybe this was kind of all you were up for—” Bucky says, finding his voice raspier than is strictly dignified. 

“Oh,” Steve says, a crease of confusion between his eyebrows, then “ _oh_ ,” an immediate blush staining his cheeks and neck. “Oh no—I didn’t mean for you to—I didn’t want you to think I just wanted this—I mean I _do_ but not—I’m just not good with lots of people around—” he breaks off his stammering, looking incredibly self-conscious. 

“No, it’s okay,” Bucky reassures him, gripping a steadying hand at the back of Steve’s neck, “It was nice that you didn’t like, jump me but—I’m glad you wanted to do this too. I mean—this was a date right? Like, a really good date?” 

A sunshine grin lights up Steve’s face and he nods emphatically, “Yes—absolutely,” he says, giving a sigh of something like relief. “Sorry, I’m not…great at this part either.”

Bucky grins back. “I mean, when I met you we were the only two people at a party not talking to anyone else so that’s alright. As long as you’re honest we can be awkward about it together.” 

“I’m always honest,” Steve says with a small quirk to his mouth. “And I really want to make another date with you, Bucky Barnes. Like maybe a whole bunch of them. And we could do more of this too, because I really like it just—maybe we can take it slow?”

Bucky smiles and tips up to drop one more light kiss on Steve’s mouth. “Slow is good with me.” 

He steps back, shoving his hands into his pocket, unable to moderate the happy grin splitting his face. “So um…how about Sunday? Same time, same place?”

“Sunday is…just right.” 

“Then it’s a date—it’s dates.” Bucky says. 

“Perfect.” 

Bucky doesn’t stop smiling the whole way home. 

*

Sunday comes and goes, watching Indiana Jones which Steve incredibly also hasn’t seen and making out lazily on his couch until later than Bucky really should be up the night before a new job. But it’s worth it. 

They do it again Thursday (Clue), and Saturday (Arsenic and Old Lace, because Steve is kind of a shit and insists that it _is_ a Halloween movie and that Bucky _has_ to see it), with an embarrassing number of phone calls and texts in between. But Steve seems to crave Bucky’s company as much as Bucky craves Steve’s, so he decides he won’t be embarrassed about it after all. 

Spending time with Steve is easy, and it leaves him with the same warm feeling in his stomach and toes every time. He’d never have considered jumping straight into something, fresh back from abroad and trying to navigate living with his parents and taking care of his dad and starting a new job—but with Steve it seems like a something that makes all the rest easier rather than too much. 

He doesn’t really even mind that they spend most of their time at Steve’s place, minus the occasional evening walk around the park in Steve’s neighborhood. It feels comfortable and natural. 

It’s hard not to admit to himself that Bucky’s spending his non-Steve days looking forward to the ones where they’re together. 

And so it isn’t surprising when he gets distracted sometimes—mooning, his mom has commented, though she hasn’t tried to pry into why yet.

And it’s also not _exactly_ surprising when he hears someone talking and it makes him think of Steve even when it’s not him—that’s just where his brain is at these days. 

He’s lying on the couch at his parents' house two Saturdays of Steve later, watching TV with his dad while his mom and Becca are out doing the weekly grocery shopping trip. His dad is an inveterate channel flipper, so Bucky isn’t paying much attention—no use getting attached to anything his dad is only going to watch for two minutes—until a familiar voice snags him, and his eyes flick to the screen to see who it is this time that sounds like the guy he can’t stop thinking about. 

It’s the afternoon news, a reporter standing with a little group of people in front of some building in lower Manhattan that looks like it’s had a rough day of it, crawling with police. 

The people clustered around are Avengers. And Captain America has just finished answering some question from the newsperson, and she turns to offer the mic to Iron Man. Bucky’s going to laugh about it—add Captain America to the list of people who remind him of Steve—when he notices a jarringly familiar nose under the Captain’s stupid looking helmet.

Bucky nearly falls off the couch in his rush to look closer. 

“ _Dad don’t change it_ ,” he manages in a strangled voice, eyes glued to…to Captain America? 

His dad scoffs, “these yahoos are always up to something. You’re not used to 'em yet but you'll find it less novel when you’ve lived here again long enough to see a few of these circuses.” 

“Shut— _Dad_ just give me a minute!” 

The reporter asks another question, and Captain America answers and—and _holy fucking shit_. It’s Steve. It’s definitely Steve who is… _Steve Fucking Rogers_. _Oh my god how_ dumb _am I?_ Bucky groans, running a hand roughly over his face and then looking again to be sure. It can’t—but it is? 

Without thinking he digs his phone out of his pocket and dials Steve’s number. 

On the screen, Captain America steps away from the group as some Shield agent holds forth assuring the city that everything is under control. 

“Bucky, hi!” Steve’s cheerful voice answers on the other end. 

“Steve what the _fuck_ , tell me you are not answering this call in the middle of the _press conference_ you’re having because you’re fucking Captain America—”

“I—” Steve’s voice falters, and Bucky can see Captain America’s shoulders hunch at the edge of the screen the way he _knows_ Steve does when he’s nervous. 

Bucky gives a long groan. 

(“What’s all this about?” his dad asks behind him, “Just—give me a _sec_ ,” Bucky replies tartly). 

“Bucky please don’t be mad!” Steve pleads, “I’m not—I wanted to figure out how to tell you but I—it didn’t come up so I—”

“It didn’t come _up_?” Bucky asks, incredulous.

“Okay, okay I made it not come up because—I never get to be around somebody who just—who doesn’t already think they know me and I like being around you so much I didn’t know how to ruin it—”

“ _Steve_ , god I’m having a—” he stops himself before he says I’m having a heartattack right now in front of his still-recovering-from-triple-bypass dad, “I’m freaking out man, come on this is not _cool_! Mr. I’m Always Honest!” 

“I know I’m—I’m really sorry—can we—can we please talk about it? I’ll tell you everything I just—I can’t talk right now but I really want to—”

Bucky scoffs, “Why did you even pick up the phone in the middle of a press conference??”

“Well I—I always pick up when it’s you,” Steve replies, matter-of-factly. 

That does it for Bucky; he melts. How can he argue with that? He huffs loudly.

“Of course I wanna talk about it you dumb dope. I just found out my boyfriend is Captain America on the Saturday news sitting next to my dad—we’re _gonna_ talk about this Steve.” 

“You—your boyfriend?” Steve asks in a small voice. 

Bucky feels his annoyance turning into a reluctant smile. On the TV, Steve turns around and makes eye contact with the camera in the corner of the screen, and Bucky knows that he’s looking at him. 

“Yeah, that’s right. My boyfriend who I met because I caught him cheating a dog to get out of watching a scary movie whose utter lack of 80’s pop culture knowledge is suddenly making a ton of sense because I’m an idiot. That boyfriend.” 

“Oh,” Steve says, and he’s smiling under his dumb, ugly blue helmet and Bucky wonders what on earth the rest of the world imagines he’s saying on that phone because they probably would not in a million years guess he’s DTR-ing right now while Iron Man schmoozes a reporter beside him. “Well…good. I’m glad I’ve got—got a very understanding boyfriend myself. Who is not going to be super super mad at me for wanting to get to know him and who also isn’t going to sell that dog story to TMZ before I have a chance to make it up to him?”

Bucky’s grinning now. “Well, I gotta compare commission rates, but we can discuss it. The Mummy, tomorrow, your place. I’m gonna want a closer look at that outfit too.” 

“Roger that.” 

“Call me later.” 

“The second I’m done.” 

Bucky hangs up the phone and drops his head into his hands with an involuntary, helpless giggle. 

He turns to his dad, who’s looking extremely bemused. 

“I’m dating Captain America.” 

“Oh…well, that's nice. Becca’s going to be surprised.” 

He leaves the TV on the news channel for another whole five minutes before switching to Law & Order.

**Author's Note:**

> as ever, i live for your comments (and kudos) so let me know what you thought! 
> 
> also find me on tumblr at [odette-and-odile!](http://odette-and-odile.tumblr.com/)


End file.
